Message From the Past
by Simahoyo
Summary: Jane's fascination for historical sites invades her dreams.
1. Chapter 1

Message from the Past

By Simahoyo

(Jane's fascination for historic sites enters her dreams.)

The war continued. The people were hungry and sick. They had no time to bring in a harvest, and so their food rotted in the fields, while the enemies waited–unseen, and unheard, outside the stockade. The town was small. Only 25 longhouses huddled inside the oak walls. Each longhouse once held 25 or so people, within the elm bark walls. The wars had taken the mature men, save two hands, all occupied watching from the ramparts. Little children had died from hunger, and everyone's belly groaned.

It was warm again, before the wild New York winter would blast the land again. Everyone knew more would die.

Orenda, their healer, made medicine. She read the smoke from dried blackberry leaves. The reading was as empty as she felt. Someone shook the bearskin on the door to her longhouse, and by the sound, she knew it was Abhaya. She smiled clicking her tongue to call in her friend. Abhaya's long body glided inside, but the frown on her face was matching most of the Clan Mother's. Abhaya was a poor seamstress, and her efforts could have been comical if their situation were not so frightening. She sat next to Orenda and looked at the shell she used for her work. "Sagole, did you see anything?"

Skipping her greeting, Orenda answered immediately."No, not yet. But your dream gives me hope." Orenda put her medicine bundle away in her personal space, and opened the divider between the rooms she shared with her clan. Then she faced her friend, while her sister, Ahmisa moved into the next room, politely walking away fortheir privacy.

"Ah, my dream. I saw a young boy. If he doesn't arrive soon, I think we will all die. Or kill each other. I saw him walk into the sacred space all alone. Yaogah believes in my dream. I'm not sure I do so much. Not now." She bowed her head, and scratched at the wraparound skirt she had so clumsily sewn. Orenda looked at her with affection. Abhaya was a dreamer, and a good one. But like so many, she was losing heart. Orenda tried to offer something good. "Gohone is trying to dig roots by the pond." He is brave to attempt women's work, don't you think?" Abhaya grinned., picturing the slender warrior grubbing for cattail roots, while the young warriors made fun. "I'll help him. Maybe a foolish duck will stop by." And Abhaya was gone. Orenda motioned to Ahimsa, and the two sat and peeled the cases from pumpkin seeds. And as sisters will, they chatted, or sang hopeful prayers, their voices adding a thin stream of beauty to the despair around them.

The silence of the birds and animals made Abhaya even more cautious than usual. Her moccasins moved nearly soundlessly along the path as her eyes swept the area. She was nearing the sacred space in the center of the town when lightning ran up her spine. She stopped breathing, and looked at the small boy in front of her. He was probably 8 years old, wearing only a breechcloth and moccasins. They were undecorated. He wore no scalplock in his hair. He was the boy from her dream. Tears stung her eyes. "It begins." she whispered.

Jane woke suddenly, growling at the sound of her cell phone. She grabbed it, and tamped down her morning grouchiness in case it was someone she actually wanted to talk to. The motel room as just a little cold, so she kept a blanked around her shoulders, as she got out of bed. She glanced at her phone, shrugging. Why was Frankie calling her so blasted early?

"What?", she snapped.

"You'd better sit down."

"Am I fired? Nobody told me anything."

"Not you, dummy–Maura."

"Good. No, she didn't do anything..well except for blocking my calls, and the nasty note on her door, and the court order. Damn that woman has a temper."

"I know, Janie. It's all over the department. The Feebs called her into Cavanaugh's office. They wanted her to identify some people, and I guess...well, you know how ladylike the guys all thought she was?

"Yeah."

"That balloon has popped.. The woman has a vocabulary of swear words, um, like when Dad dropped the $2000 granite countertop and broke it. I don't know what all happened, but Frost said she told them all to go to hell, and stomped out of there, slamming the door."

"Wow. Maua can stomp! So she's out? Anything about my case? IA really pushed me hard. I was tempted, but for once, I watched my mouth."

Frankie chuckled, "Nothing yet. I'm keeping a ear to the ground.. How's Montreal?"

"I didn't go. I got sidetracked by some historical markers.."

"Figures. What are you looking at now? More witches?"

"Nope. Mohawks. I'm in Upstate New York. There's some interesting stuff about a guy that wrote this, 'Great Peace',

Forerunner to the Constitution. I can even pronounce his name. Skennenrahowi.. Shoulda seen the guide's face when I said it right. Might as well have fun while I'm waiting."

"Y e a h. Have a ball, history girl. I'll call you when I know more."

Jane shut off her cell, and sat on the bed, reading guidebooks, then showered and dressed for another day of playing tourist. She dropped by the only café in the tiny town, and sat at the counter. The farmers and their wives stared openly.

Apparently they didn't get many visitors. The food smelled good. Or she was extra hungry. She ordered coffee, and the breakfast special, because it reminded her of her mother's cooking. It was ok, but didn't have her mother's touch. No bunny pancakes. "God, I'm an idiot. I miss Ma only because I can't legally see her. Damn Maura and her court order., she thought."

The hundred yards Jane wasn't allowed within included Angela's home.

Maura fiddled with her fork, trying hard to actually eat what was on her plate. She was bored and furious–not a good combination. She had already taken her anger out on every breakable item she owned (except the heirlooms), and then gone through a case of eggs. She went to her desk, pulled out her engineer's ruler, and placed it on her desk. Then she opened another drawer for the extra strength rubber bands. She glared at her breakfast, and threw it away. Carefully washing the dishes. When everything was neat and clean, she reached behind a door, and pulled out a life sized standing photo of Jane Rizzoli, murmuring, "See, Bass, I can do target practice too." The tortoise just blinked at her.

In the garden, she set up the target, using wooden stakes to hold it in place. She paced off the distance, placed a rubber band on the end of the ruler, and pulled back. Her aim was good, and it hit Jane's, "face" right on the nose. Maura spent nearly an hour soothing her feelings when she noticed Angela approaching. She could not hurt that woman. It wasn't her fault...Maura ran to the target and held it facing away from Angela.

"Hi, Maura, What are you doing?'

And the hyperventilation started. Maura thought several choice profanities while she struggled to breathe. "Something I shouldn't. Can we please leave it at that? Please." Her breathing eased.

Angela frowned. Her discussion with Constance Isles had prepared her somewhat for this conversation.

"I think this has gone on long enough, Maura."

"No. It's not over until I say it's over!."

"God, what were you like when you were going through your terrible twos? And yes, I have been speaking with your mother. She's worried about you. And so am I. You used to be so kind and loving, and now—everything makes you furious. When is this going to stop?"

"I've had a few things to deal with, if you recall. I was nearly killed twice, Mother ...Mom, almost died protecting me, Jane killed my father and ...Oh no. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry. You had no idea and I had no right to...I'm so sorry..." and Maura ran into her house, weeping.

Angela picked up the cutout of her daughter, and carried it back to her house, shaking her head.

Jane really liked the replica longhouse, and felt right at home kneeling inside. The cute guide joined her, automatically kneeling and giving her a lopsided smile before asking the tour group, "Can you imagine living with up to 25 of your relatives in one house? "

" My God, I thought I had no privacy growing up. What was the homicide rate?"

He laughed, saying under his breath, "Cop?"and winked at her nod as he replied, "We don't really know, but there was a lot of fighting. People were afraid to leave their homes, and could be attacked while harvesting food, so starvation was a real factor here."

Jane looked around at the fields of corn, and grapes, thinking of the self-inflicted hard times of those people. "I don't feel the way I do at battlefields. It's peaceful here. Nice."

"How do you feel at battlefields?"

"Shivery, sick to my stomach, like bugs are running under my skin. I hate Lexington and Concord. Lost my lunch at Phipps' Farm."

"Some people have a certain sensitivity to old war, and battle sites. I would guess you're one of them. The reason it isn't here is because Skeenenrahowi lived here, and taught here. The tree of peace he planted absorbed the blood of those wars and battles. Enough good will make the bad m...go away.."

"I hope that's true. Oh God, I hope so.", thought Jane, also wondering what he had started to say.

End chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Message from the Past, Chapter 2

Maura knew she was depressed–she had all the clinical symptoms, when she wasn't indulging outbursts of anger. Bass only approached her when she gave him food. Even a tortoise didn't want to deal with her. It was three in the afternoon, and Maura went to bed. The covers were over her head. Her phone was off. She drifted at the edge of sleep.

Water was lapping at a shore, somewhere. She could make out deciduous trees, losing their leaves, over a stockade of some sort. It appeared to be huge oak logs pounded at a consistent angle into the ground. The stockade was large, and as she located the opening, Maura, only she knew she wasn't herself in the dream, walked into a small town filled with structures made of bent poles and covered with elm bark. The people appeared to be Native Americans, and their clothing and hair styles classified them as Mohawks. Maura was very interested. This was her first historical dream setting. A stray thought reminded her that it probably wasn't a good idea to self-prescribe Amitriptyline.

The people seemed to be gathering at the center of the town. Maura felt a jolt, and Orenda walked confidently to the boy standing there. She glanced at Abhaya, who nodded so slightly that no one else could have seen. So, this was the boy from the dream. This was Abhaya's work.

Abhaya smiled at the boy, holding out her hand, smiling.

"Sagole. My name is Abhaya. And who are you?"

"Sagole." I am Skennenrahowi. Creator has sent me here–to you. To touch your hearts and bring you peace."

"Peacemaker," the people whispered to one another. And Orenda knew that some wept at the word. She noticed a stir out of the corner of her eye, as Yaogah strode into the circle. His hair was white by now, and he still wore the traditional braids and scalplock. The gorget around his neck was carved into his clan sign–the bear. His shirt was heavily quilled in vine and leaf motifs.

His leggings also were decorated, and his moccasins too. His breechcloth was covered with tiny beads of shell and copper. Everything said he was a man of importance. He looked at the boy, then to Abhaya, and back to the boy. "Peacemaker?", he asked.

When the boy nodded, Yaogah grunted. "I will hear what you have to say."

All eyes were on the child, whose high, clear voice carried through the town.

"I speak of fear and of how fear can lead to good action or bad action. Fear makes us watch out for those we love. It makes us gather in food for the long winter. It makes us mindful of how our actions will be received by those who love and support us."

"Yes, " said Yaogah, "But wrong action leads to pain and suffering. I have lost all my family."

The child's face showed sympathy. "All men who have lost their sons and daughters, look to Yaogoh. You are the fathers. All women who have lost your sons and daughters, look to Abhaya.

You are the mothers. All children whose mothers and fathers are gone, look to these, your mothers and fathers. And Orenda, look to me, I am your son. We are one family."

"What of those who attack us? Those who kill us?", asked Abhaya.

"Creator brings the same message to them. When I am older, and our house is filled with right action and love, I will go our other family, and speak peace to them."

When Maura woke, she was still not quite herself. Some of Orenda seemed to stay with her. Bass

slowly made his way to her. "Hi Bass. I suppose I'm not so scary today. Do you want some arugula? " and she feed the tortoise. Then she sat and stared at the telephone. She picked it up, and put it down exactly five times before dialing.

"Law Office."

"This is Maura Isles. May I please speak with Roger Addams?

When Roger came on the line, she could hear his frustration even in his greeting.

"Hello, Roger. This is Maura Isles. I...think I should rescind that court order. I know I've been difficult lately, and I really must apologize for my behavior."

She could hear him exhale, then, "No apology needed. It's what you pay me for."

"I do not pay you to take my abuse. No one should. I think it's time I grew up, and faced the consequences of my own actions."

Roger's voice held a smile. "Well, I did learn a few new words. I'll take care of the court order. Nothing to worry about."

Maura thanked him and put the receiver down, once, twice, three, four, five times.

She picked it up again, following the same ritual, and dialed once more, counting the rings.

"Maura. How are you?", asked Constance.

"I'm not sure, Mom. And I should be asking you. How are you feeling?

"Much better. And my hair is growing back. That was a real blow to my vanity. And you?"

"I'm doing more rituals, and I don't want to. I'm a bit frightened. But I had a dream and I seem to have worked out something in my sleep. Bass isn't afraid of me anymore. I, um, took away the court order against...you know..."

"Jane? I'm glad–for you and for Angela. She missed her daughter. I miss mine. Do you understand your reaction yet?"

"I think so. When my birth father died, I didn't see his face, I saw Dad's, and you were so badly injured...I thought I might lose you both, and I ..can't be that alone."

"Oh, honey. Please. Your Dad's cancer is all gone. I'm fairly well mended, and ...here, your father wants to talk to you..."

"Hey Einstein. We miss you. You've had a really rough month. When are you coming home? I haven't seen my girl in a long time."

"Oh Daddy. No one ever calls me that but you. I've been so horrid to everyone, and I have so many apologies to make...and"

"And you want your job back. Listen Kiddo, I didn't set you the best example. Don't throw money at it. Use your heart and that big brain of yours. And if the FBI gives you any more trouble, I'll help you figure something out."

"You know about...Jane can never know. I'd rather have her hate me than find out I paid one of the Doyles not to kill her. Please, Dad?"

"Yes, our little secret then...but don't make a habit of it."

Maura said her goodbyes, and struggled against the hanging up ritual. "Angela's next. How do I begin?"

The tour group walked past some women in period clothing, who were pounding corn in an upended log, with a hollow at the top, and a wooden pole, narrow at the bottom and wider at the top. Others wove, made masks, or sewed.

"This is women's work, and believe me when I say this, the women were the bosses, not little housewives. They not only grew, harvested and prepared the food, but clothed everyone, were healers, dreamers, and had the right to remove any man from political office they didn't like.

A man in designer jeans and a sheepskin jacket nudged his wife. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Jane was itching to try some of those things, and as she eyed the log apparatus, a woman with a long face and really dark skin, looked at Jane and smiled. She patted the space next to her, saying,

"Sit with us." Then she turned to the guide with a dismissive. "Go lead the tour. We're busy."

"My name is Katherine Swamp, and the are Lizbeth, and Leah Brant", as Katherine indicated the other women. Reenactors.

"I'm Jane Rizzoli. Tourist."

"Do I hear Boston?", asked Lizbeth?

"South Boston, yes.", said Jane. "There something about this place. I mean, I a big history nut, but I never learned about any of this before."

"So many people think no one lived here before Plymouth Rock", and Katherine bit off a thread with her teeth. Grinning, she continued, "But then where did Squanto come from?"

Jane laughed. "I asked a really similar question in catechism once. About where the sons of Noah's wives came from. Father was not happy."

"Yes", said Leah. "So, when you look around here, imagine what it was 800 years ago."

Jane gulped. "Eight hundred years? We are talking about, what 1212? That is a long time ago."

"And you look like a woman of action. How would you like to pound some corn?", and with those words, Lizbeth lead Jane to the log, dropping in some dried corn kernels, then expertly pounding them to meal with the big stick.

"See", she said, "The top is weighted to make the pounding easier. You try."

And Jane found herself pounding corn , chatting with her new friends, and trying to join cornhusks to weave a mask. They laughed, and then commented on her quick learning of the skills.

Then Leah grew serious. Do you know about Hiawatha?, she asked..

"I know the poem. Not that wild about it, I have to say."

"Ah," said Katherine," I suspect you'll like the real story better. When Skennenrahowi set out to bring his message to their enemies, he rode in a shining white stone canoe, going east, where he met Jikonsahseh, an evil woman leader, who heart was filled with revenge for the many young people who had died in the wars. With each death, her heart hardened more, until it was like flint.

The words Peacemaker spoke helped her to see that everyone was surrounded by the spirits of the dead they had loved. And that the love was still there. She looked and saw her family, and those they had killed, and their family and far into the past–too far to look without weeping. But she did not weep only for her own family. She had learned to weep for all the dead and all the mourners.

And she was the first Clan Mother to understand the Law in the East.

As Skennenrahowi continued on his journey, he met a warrior who had see his seven daughters slain at one time. He wandered to a lake where waterbirds lived, and when they left, he gathered shell, in mourning for his children. He vowed that the first to speak the right words of comfort would heal him. This was Hiawatha. And Peacemaker's words were so powerful that Hiawatha became his speaker."

"You'll like this part", whispered Lizbeth.

And Katherine continued, "There was a man-monster, called Tadodah, or Snakes in His Hair. He was filled with evil and it had deformed him, twisting his spine, and filling his hair with snakes. He was eight feet tall, and constantly wore war paint, weaving evil and revenge in people's hearts."

"Someplace between Medusa and Grindle?" He sounds scary, alright." said Jane.

"Someday paid attention in English Literature class.", teased Lizbeth, with a wink.

"So", continued a slightly miffed Katherine, " No one dared disobey his orders. They quaked at this voice, which was like thunder–except Hiawatha, who held a magical comb, and when Tadodah attacked, he touched the comb to his crooked back–once, twice, three times! And his back was straightened. The Hiawatha gently combed the snakes out of his hair, and Tadodah was whole again. He washed off his warpaint, and he listened to the words of Skennenrahowi through Hiawatha, and he became a great and wise leader among his people. The comb was like this...". and Katherine held out a hardwood comb, with fancy woodcarving at the top..

"There you are! Time to wake up." and the tour guide grinned as Jane opened her eyes. She was

sitting alone. The women were gone.

"Did the ladies go home already?"

"What ladies?"


	3. Chapter 3

Message from the Past

Chapter 3

Her cell rang when she was in the tourist shop. Jane picked it up absentmindedly, as she looked at postcards, and other souvenirs.

"Rizzoli."

"Hey Sis. I got news," said Frankie.

"About my case? Tell me."

"Not yet. But Maura took off the court order. You can see Ma anytime you want."

Jane was grinning from ear to ear, but her response was, "Oh great. Still off work. Could lose my job, but I can go see Ma."

"You're a rotten liar, Sis."

"Did you hear why she ended that dumb court order? Do you think she hates me a little less.?"

Frankie hesitated at what he heard in his sister's voice. "Uh, maybe. I gotta go. My break's over."

It was then that Jane saw the tiny carved stone canoe. Perfect. It might carry her need for forgiveness. Maybe.

Angela opened the ornate card, and looked down at the Doctor's strong writing.

"Dear Angela,

I'm am so sorry for the pain I have caused you and your family. I wasn't myself–actually, I was a horrid little Banshee. Nothing excuses the language I used in your presence, or keeping your daughter from you. If you can ever forgive me...I just hope you can someday.

Maura"

And Angela looked down at the rosary in her hand, and smiled.

The street in front of Maura's house was dark. That fit Jane's mood. She was really kind of frightened. Who would answer the door? Gentle Maura, or explosive Maura. It was like tossing dice. She knocked gingerly, remember Maura's complaint that she was the only Rizzoli who knew how to knock before entering. The porch light came on, and the door opened. Maura was standing there. Was it the lady or the tiger?

"Hi. I brought you something." And Jane heard her own voice quavering. She held out her hand with the tiny stone canoe in it–waiting.

Maura reached for it, with a gentle smile. "It's Skennenrahowi's stone canoe. It's perfect. Please come in. I have a gift for you too."

She led Jane into the living room, past Bass, who actually blinked at her.

"Please sit down. I'm having a little trouble with my OCD lately, so please try to be patient with me." and Maura opened a desk drawer, closed it, opened it again, looked as if she wanted to cry, and did the ritual three more times, before taking out a hardwood comb–one Jane had seen before.

"So which one of us is Tadodaho?," joked Jane.

"I've filled that role the last few weeks, I think."

When Angela walked into Maura's living room, without knocking, she saw Jane facing Maura, their foreheads together, and holding hands. Angela backed out of the room, looking heavenward with a silent, "Thank you."


End file.
